Armed With a Laugh
by LocalEccentric
Summary: The story in between the story of "Who Framed Roger rabbit". Find out what happens when I get sucked into the past. Learn what secret my great uncle hid from the world. See Marvin Acme's funeral in vivid detail! Hear the story of the Toon Patrol's acting debut! (this is the final version of this story to be posted here)
1. Chapter 1

(To start off, I re-inserted several of the deleted scenes, because I felt they belonged back in the story as a whole. Secondly, the Great-Uncle George and his wife, Margaret mentioned in the story actually existed. I'm related to him through Margaret, who was my maternal great aunt. You can read all about him here: name/nm0470685/ )

No Toons were harmed in the writing of this story.

Here goes nothing:

I remember that it was Thursday, August 14th, 1947. But before you interrupt me asking how that's possible, hear me out.

The ranch house in Thousand Oaks, California was light and airy. All clean lines and open spaces, with a design reminiscent of the late Art Deco period. It was one story, with a formal and an informal living room. I sat in the formal living room on a shiny cream leather sofa, nervously facing my great uncle.

Of course, he didn't know he was my great uncle- yet. That was a big part of the reason I sought him out. He was a formidable looking man about 6 feet tall, with a receding hairline, but there was a slight twinkle in his eye that softened his demeanor. Wearing a lightweight grey suit with broad, peaked lapels that went quite well with a pastel blue shirt and silvery grey Art Deco tie, he was the picture of a successful artist and animator.

Of course, this was a first impression. I never knew him in my own time; he died a decade before I was born. My mom knew him better, and would probably be appalled at my first impression of her uncle, but I was incredible nervous, and a little bit intimidated.

I was nervous because he, George Kreisl, was probably the only person who'd take me seriously enough to help me get home.

"You're my only hope to get home, Mr. Kreisl. Without your help, I might as well kiss my home goodbye. Can you help me," I begged, "Please?"

He gulped, slightly, and said, "Young man, if you really claim that I'm your only hope to get home, I'll try my hardest. What exactly is the problem?"

"This is a bit of a whopper. I think you might just lock me up in the local nuthouse," I said, with a small, apologetic smile.

"I work with cartoons for a living. I go home and have hallucinations half the time. I don't think you could say anything that can shock me."

"I don't really know where to start," I said, shifting in my seat uncomfortably, "Nothing is quite right to explain what happened to me – and don't get me wrong, this has to do with you, too. Indirectly, of course…."

"Go on," he said. I continued, "This may sound like something out of 'Ripley's Believe it or Not', but I….. somehow I was thrust backward in time thanks to a pair of spats." I noticed his eyes narrowing so I quickly continued," T-the…er… the spats were in an old suitcase I found. There were things from your house. H-here, " I said, sweeping my arm around the elegantly furnished formal living room, "This.. house…."

He said nothing, so I said, "This next bit will be harder to swallow: I'm your great nephew. Your wife's little brother is my maternal grandfather. I know Pop-pop…I mean..Rudy.. is only 8 years old now, but look carefully, " I said, slowly taking off my glasses, "Can you see any family resemblance?"

He said, slowly, considering it, "I see a resemblance. But do you have any proof? How do I know you're not a lunatic? Not that I truly think you're a lunatic! I'd just like some proof that you are who you say you are." He furrowed his brow.

Suddenly, I remembered my learner's permit, and I fished out my wallet. Handing it to him, I said, "Here, look. It says my name, address, date of birth. All that stuff. If this isn't proof, than I don't know what is."

He was silent for a moment as he studied it. I was afraid he'd accuse me of faking it, but he said nothing. Handing it back to me, he said, "Well, you are who you say you are. I suppose you should start calling me Uncle George, then. Now, about those spats…. Do you have them with you? I think I might know the ones you mean."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I took them out of my pocket. They were a pair of gleaming white cartoon spats. Their real-life counterparts were used as a swanky accessory, meant to be worn over the shoes, from the 1800s to the late 1930s. Handing them to him, I was delighted to see a flash of recognition on his face.

He said, "I had a bad feeling you were talking about these spats. There was a good reason these were hidden among my old things."

My smile disappeared, "Don't look so downhearted," he said, "I can probably figure out what happened: you put the spats on, presumably as a finishing touch to your costume- am I right? I'm guessing that you people in 2015 don't dress like we do today," he said, looking over my grey double breasted suit and wool felt fedora. His gaze lingered, somewhat disapprovingly on my red candy-striped shirt and equally loud tie; red on one half, a line of dots with a white background on the other.

"That's pretty much it. I love vintage clothing. The styles of my day are comfortable and casual, but I love the look and feel of the 40s style," I said.

"And, "he continued, smiling, "You must have clicked your heels, like in 'The Wizard of Oz' and you wound up here. You must have, even if you didn't realize it. That's now the spats work."

"Yeah," I sheepishly admitted, "But it was an accident. If I knew I was going to be _stuck_ here, I never would have clicked them!"

Uncle George chuckled, saying "I'm sure you didn't. But I'm guessing you tried to go back the same way you got here?"

"Yes," I said, "And it didn't work. And I'm guessing that you know why? Because if you do, that's what I came here to ask you. I mean, imagine my shock when, on top of realizing I was trapped in the past, I see a bunch of Loony Tunes characters walking down Sunset Boulevard! And why did I end up there? Why this date? Why-"

He cut me off, but gently, "Patience, my boy, patience. First, to understand the way these spats work, you'll have to understand about the way Toons are drawn to life."

I sat forward, eager to hear what he had to say.

"It's not as exciting as it sounds," he began, " New Toons are drawn almost every day. I forgot how they used to do it, but back about 10…12 years ago, they began using multiplane cameras to animate Toons. You insert the cel- animation cels. They're ink and paint sketches of scenes or characters drawn on transparent celluloid," he said, when he saw that I had no idea what he meant, "Anyway, you insert the cel drawing of the Toon, and the camera projects and animates it. They work by rotating layers of sketches, frame-by-frame to form a complete picture. Then, voice actors are used to give the Toon a voice, which sometimes has to be changed, as the sound starts to fade like an old record: hence the need for voice actors. Foley artists are also used to give the Toon unique sounds when he, she or it moves. "

He paused to take a breath, and continued, "They used some sort of a projector back before Disney's camera, I think, which is why the majority of cartoons back then were silent. But this was all before my time. My first characters were a group of about seven or so weasels for 'The Adventures of Ichabod Crane and Mr. Toad". Now they've been made the top law enforcement agency in Toontown. They call themselves the Toon Patrol, or something like that. They're the henchmen…or, henchweasels, rather, for the Chief Justice of Toontown, Judge Doom." George continued, "Horrible man, if you ask me. Word was that he bought the election. It begs the question as to why such a cold and merciless man would want to be the presiding judge of a town of goofy characters. But they're the only type of police force there now. I'm not sure how the city could have made them into an official organization, considering they're gangsters with badges."

"Wait…back up for a second… _you_ drew the Toon Patrol to life?" I stared at him, mouth nearly agape.

I could hardly believe my ears that George Kreisl would have anything to do with drawing those nasty weasels to life. In the film (Who Framed Roger Rabbit, that is) , there were five weasels: Smartass, Greasy, Wheezy, Stupid and Psycho.

Smartass wore a pink double breasted suit and fedora, and spoke in a classic New York accent, albeit a whiney one. Awful grammar, too. Constantly used malapropisms, such as "deformants" instead of "informants".

Greasy was the most lustful out of the weasels in the film. He spoke with a husky Spanish accent and wore an acid green zoot suit, with black and white spectator shoes. He usually carried around a switchblade.

Wheezy was dressed more like a card shark; rumpled white shirt, grey tie and vest, with a porkpie fedora. He was a chain smoker, often being seen with three in his mouth at once, and more tucked in various hiding spots on his person. He was an unusual blue-grey color, and his fur was nicotine stained.

Psycho had wild, spiky fur, and wore a loosened straightjacket. He has yellow and orange swirly eyes and carried a straight razor. He had a high, lilting voice, and giggled a lot.

Stupid was the dumb one. He had one long tooth that jutted out of his mouth, and wore a blue stripes shirt that rode up on his belly. On his head was a red and yellow beanie. He carried a baseball bat imbedded with a nail that he mainly used to whack himself over the head. On his feet were red untied sneakers.

The other two weasels that Uncle George mentioned could only be the two that were cut out of the film: Slimy and Flasher. Slimy looked more like a 1950s greaser, with an oily pompadour and a leather jacket open over his deep brown fur. Slime dripped from his nose, paws and feet, and possibly his mouth. Flasher wore a trench coat and a backwards baseball cap. You can guess why he was called Flasher. (In truth, he wasn't displaying anything: he did it for the shock value. But he had on a gaudy pair of boxers patterned with Valentine hearts). With the two ones cut out, the seven were whittled down to five in the film, but in the real world, their numbers were increased. Judge Doom and the Seven Weasels, I guess. That wouldn't make a very good Disney film, now would it?

"Yes, I drew the Toon Patrol to life." he said, "As a matter of fact; those spats belonged to the leader of the group. I don't recall his name."

"Smartass," I supplied, nodding my head slightly.

"That's his name!" he shouted, triumphantly, but said, confused, "How do you know that? I never labeled the spats. Are the weasels well known in your time?"

"Well, no," I began, "not for their work as law enforcement in Toontown. They were known for their role in a film called "Who Framed Roger Rabbit"."

"Roger Rabbit?" asked Uncle George, "You don't mean RK Maroon's star?"

"Yeah," I said, getting excited about the fact that my favorite movie was real, "That's exactly who I mean. They're the secondary villains in the film, and thanks to what you just told me, I now know that it actually happened. Or will happen, later today, based on today's date, and the date given in the film."

"Well," said Uncle George, "Whatever role they'll play in whoever framed Roger Rabbit, you'll have to know that I wasn't the one who named those weasels. Walt asked me to draw a group of tough-guy weasels for some last- minute touches on "Ichabod Crane and Mister Toad'. This was my first little tiff with Disney, because he had me draw them entirely new wardrobes! He and I had very different definitions of what a tough-guy Toon should look like. I drew them as gangsters, but Mr. Disney didn't want them to look like gangsters, so he asked me to draw some simple flat caps and raggedy shirts for them, like dockworkers, or something. They changed outfits as soon as we began filming."

"That's odd… I know for a fact that "Ichabod Crane and Mr. Toad" was released in 1949. That's 8 years from when you say you worked on it," I pointed out.

"Yes…. Disney plans to release it in a few years. We would have released it after the filming was done, but it was delayed due to both the outbreak of the War, and a few other reasons."

"What other reasons?" I asked, curious to know.

"There was an….unfortunate accident on the stage next door to ours. They were wrapping up filming "Bambi", when the Toon playing the hunter- a rather ugly one named Baron VonRotten- was accidentally shocked by one of the multiplane cameras and, when he finally regained consciousness; he actually believed he was a villain! He went around the other sound stages wreaking all kinds of havoc, and disappeared into Toowntown shortly after that I don't know what's become of him."

"Oh…" I said. I knew _instantly_ the Toon he meant, but I wasn't going to say anything. Not then, at least.

He continued, "I knew that the Weasels, also, would be trouble pretty soon after we were finished filming. But they can't help it. They were drawn that way, as villains." He sighed, and said, "At any rate, what you told me about where you ended up explains why Smartass left them with me. He just discarded them after filming was over. I see he found another pair to wear," he said, with a hint of distaste.

"So how do they work?"

"They're designed to return themselves to their original owner, where they live. You ended up right near the entrance of Toontown, though on this exact date, I don't know why. I don't think they'll go into Toontown. The physics in our world and in Toontown are enormously different, to say the least. Since they were drawn in the real world, but using the limited Toon physics that have a foothold here, they only worked partway, which was probably why the boss weasel discarded them."

"They were created here, so they only could take him as far as the entrance to Toontown. If I were to draw a new pair, and dedicate the drawing to you, the spats should, in theory, work for you and bring you back to almost exactly wherever it is you were…ah... _zapped_ from." He chuckled a bit, But, I think, in all seriousness, I should be able to send you home within a week. If you like," he added, "I could make them work as a round trip, so you can come back here as often as you like."

I could hardly believe my ears. He found a way to send me home, almost straight away! _And_ I could come back to my favorite decade if I wanted to?

"Thank you so much, Uncle George!" I felt like hugging him, but I figured that would be awkward, so I just grinned.

"It's really no problem," Uncle George said, "But, I'm not exactly sure when I can get the chance to do it. They have several new skits that need a new load of characters drawn to life. It may take a while. You can stay here if you like, until we can get you back to where you belong."

"Thank you! Oh, but…. First, I think I have a job to do," I said, thinking that I could very well get in on the action that the film was based on. No fan could possibly get to do what I was about to do!

But Uncle George misunderstood me."Well, there's an opening at the studio as a storage clerk, I think."

"Actually, Uncle George, I have another job in mind. Do you know the address for Valiant and Valiant, in LA?"

"The detective agency? Hold on. I think I have a business card somewhere," he said as he got up and retrieved his business card holder.

When he returned, he handed me a coffee-stained white card which read "Valiant and Valiant, Private Investigators." Below it, the address: "1130, South Hope Street, TEL: MAdion-3529".

"You can keep it," he said, "I have several others."

I said, barely able to contain my excitement as I put on my hat, "I think I'll head there right away!"

"Now wait a minute, just..wait! You don't mean you actually intend to interfere with this business- whatever it is- with Roger Rabbit and the Toon Patrol?"

I slowly began to sit down, "Yeah… why? Is there a problem?" But instantly, I saw there _was_ a problem. A very big one.

"Well, for starters, Los Angeles nearly 40 miles away; an hour away from my house. And let's not even get started on the fact that Toontown has a dangerous underground. You could get hurt if you stick your nose in where it doesn't belong."

My smile began to fade. "I hitchhiked up here, and I could do the same on the way to LA… but you're right… I guess I was just excited, because the film that used whatever is going to happen in the next few days as its basis is my all-time favorite movie." Sheepishly, I grinned and took my hat off. George sat back in his chair, and said,

"Well, tell me what "all of this" is about. If this is as serious as you make it sound, Adam, I'm curious to hear about it."

So I told him, without going into too much detail, as I'm prone to doing, the entire plot of "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" as simply as I could: "The film centers around alcoholic P.I, Eddie Valiant, who is hired by animator RK Maroon to take compromising pictures of RK's star Roger Rabbit's wife Jessica "playing patty cake"- literally, as it turns out- with Toontown's owner Marvin Acme. But things get screwy when Acme's will turns up missing and Judge Doom and the Toon Patrol start accusing Roger of murdering Acme. Eddie has to also try to save both the Red Car line of trolleys and Toontown from destruction by a company called Cloverleaf, find Acme's will _and_ clear Roger's name. In the end, it's revealed that Doom owns Cloverleaf, and is behind it all, and wants to destroy Toontown and the Red Car line to build a massive highway. He's also a psychotic Toon in disguise, by the way. Based on what you've told me, it's all true, and is going to happen in the next three days!"

He looked like he was struck by lightning. "If this is all true, you _must_ get involved! Toontown must be saved at all costs! It's already 10 am, so if you want to catch that Valiant man, you'll have to do it now. Come," he said, getting out of his chair. "I'll drive you there on my way to work."

We both climbed into his car, a gorgeous '45 Pontiac Streamliner in white and blue, and drove the way I came (I can't remember much more than that. We were deeply involved in the following conversation, so I don't know which way we went).

"I wish I knew the best way to help you with this," George said, "But I'm not exactly an expert on Toontown, nor on Toon physics. No one is, with the sole exception of Toontown's owner, Marvin Acme. This isn't an exact science, you understand. Bringing a Toon into existence, and the mechanics the 'death' of a Toon are still a mystery. Some sort of psychobabble with quantum physics, or something."

After a long pause, I asked, "What does a Toon physically feel like? Do they have a weight? A texture? Or do they feel like the ink and paint they're made of?"

"It's difficult to explain. They have a weight to them, though, for some of the smaller Toons, it's very slight. They don't look two-dimensional, though. It's..it's really something you'll have to experience for yourself. It's amazing, actually. But they feel, too. They know what pain and heat and cold feel like because that's how they're drawn. They aren't really living things, but they're made to be like they are. Whatever the role demands of them, they do, which is how they can feel. We don't….project our own emotions onto them, but they already come with them. They're alive, and they exist, but not in the sense of you or I. They love, they hate, they feel emotions, but not like humans, because they're not….born. They're drawn, and whatever notes the animator makes on the concept sheets get incorporated into the design. That's why some Toons are good and some Toons are bad. It's really how they're drawn. It brings into question one's views about life as a whole, doesn't it?"

"That must be why they're a….basically a repressed minority now," I said, " That also might be why I had to go 68 years in the past to hear about them. Maybe the people of my own time didn't want people to know about them, because of the physically impossible things they can do that humans can't do: because people could be scared of some kind of stupid potential uprising. Can you imagine it?"

"I never really thought about it that way. But Toons are made to make people laugh. They're comedians. Actors. How can people think they'd start an uprising, or some other stupid thing?"

"Ask the people who don't allow Toons in most of the establishments in LA. It's segregation, really."

"I have to agree with you on that, my boy. But you know, they're near and dear to every American out there. They know how to make people laugh." By that point, we were almost in LA, and I didn't even realize it."Toons," he continued, "don't have much…footing in this world. They're, as you said, a minority. Laughter is what they know best. It's their tool, their weapon to be of some influence in this crazy world of ours. Without laughter, they're nothing, really. _We're_ nothing, too. Laughs can make us human, if you really think about it."

"Maybe that's also why Toons die of too much laughter: because they're just _not_ human."

We were quiet for quite a number of minutes. Nearly 20, before he spoke again.

"Quite true. It's an almost godlike complex, making these Toons come to life. They're like children, pure, and innocent, and made to convey something pure and innocent. If people took advantage of something like that, where would the world be? It would be wrong. It would also be like taking advantage of ourselves, which we successfully manage to do anyway, in this second year of the atomic age. Laughter _does_ make us human. It's what makes us…well, us. If we had no laughter, no joy, or happiness or love, would we still be human? Maybe that's the reason for these cartoons. To make us laugh, and make us feel human. To recapture that essence of pure love and joy when we were children with cartoons. The love and security and the laughter. If that very essence of humanity were taken away, where would we be? People need to laugh, and be happy. That's why Toontown is as important to us as we are to it."

Maybe that's also why Doom wants to destroy Toontown, I thought. In addition to his plot to destroy the Red Car line- LA's public transportation system of trolley cars- and make way for a freeway where Toontown currently stands.

"It's a grim thing to be thinking about," he continued, "It's also something that can really make you question the boundaries of life and all that philosophical stuff. Not something I really want to think about before I head to work. Speaking of, we're almost at Valiant and Valiant's," he said, pulling to a stop at the intersection of South Hope Street and 11th avenue.

"Do you need any money? Do you feel all right by yourself here?" he asked, concerned.

I said that I'd be fine, and as far as money was concerned, he didn't have to, but I would take whatever he could spare. He handed me twenty dollars. You, dear reader, must be thinking what a cheapskate my great uncle is for giving me twenty bucks, but you have to remember that a twenty spot went a _very_ long way in a year where public transportation was a nickel and most meals were 50 cents.

We parted ways, and he drove over to Disney Studios in Burbank. The street was crowded, bustling with people and gorgeous old cars, so it was a bit of a challenge to make it to what I recognized as Eddie's building. It really did look the way the movie portrayed it, South Hope Street. Everything bathed in midmorning sunlight, the people going about their business, and the Red Cars clanging along the tracks.

I, admittedly, felt scared, being all alone in an unfamiliar city, 68 years in the past at that… But I felt a sense of duty to try to help as much as I could, so I soldiered on towards the building where Eddie Valiant's office was. Now, I would have called ahead, but I don't think Eddie would have been in his office at that time. He was probably headed to the Terminal Bar on 6th avenue and South Hope Street, where his girlfriend, Dolores worked.

With incredible luck, I saw who I presumed was Eddie Valiant (He was very nearly the spitting image of Bob Hoskins! The movie producers sure got an A-1 lookalike to play him in the film!) heading into the Terminal Station Bar after throwing his mail in a nearby trashcan, and crossing the street.

I thought I could pass for someone older than I actually was, especially with how I was dressed, so I don't think I'd get kicked out if I went into a bar. Heck, even though I was only 17, I doubt the patrons would have cared. Dolores might, maybe, but she'd be too distracted demanding what happened to the second half of the hundred dollars Eddie owes her, or griping about someone wanting continuous re-fills of their beer.

With mounting confidence, I crossed the street and climbed the stairs, under the flickering neon sign for the bar. Just as I was up the stairs, the ceiling lights sparked and flickered and a trolley roared by. God, how could these guys stand it here with all this noise, I thought to myself.

Soon, Eddie stormed past me just as I was about to enter. Well, hello to you too. Guess I'll talk to him later. I entered the bar, and arrived just in time to see what made Eddie mad: Angelo, an obnoxious mechanic teased Eddie about working for Toons. "What's his problem?" asked Angelo, chewing the rest of the hardboiled egg that Eddie shoved in his mouth.

"A Toon killed his brother", said Dolores, glumly stepping forward, watching Eddie as he stormed out. The patrons gasped, and Delores continued, "Dropped a piano on his head."

Dolores had on her yellow and brown waitress' uniform, which was a bit rumpled. Her hairstyle, a bouffant, touched here and there with strands of gray, puffed along the top of her head, cascading down to form a messy roll by the nape of her neck. Both her dress and her hair were at least a few years out of fashion. Her face was weary, and her eyes looked like they'd seen happier times. She had on bright red lipstick, which only made the lines around her eyes stand out, but the one thing I couldn't help but notice was her deep laugh lines that formed creases by her mouth.

"Nasty business, all that." I said, casually, taking Eddie's vacated seat. "Never mess with a guy who's as hardboiled as the egg you're about to eat."

"He's been through a lot, my Eddie," said Dolores, taking away Eddie's abandoned shot glass to wash it. "He hasn't had a very happy life."

"We all have our stories, Miss…," I trailed off, uncertain of her last name.

"Verne," she supplied, "but just call me Dolores. Every other drunk around here does. Now, can I get you anything, or are you just going to sit there and stare at today's specials?"

"I'll just have a Coca-Cola with a lemon wedge. I don't drink, and I don't intend to start."

I said, "Tell me, my dear Ms. Verne, er …Dolores, rather… what do you know about Eddie Valiant's latest case?"

As she filled out my order, she said, "If you're going to deal with anything involving Eddie, you may as well start drinking now." She slid my drink across the table, Western movie-style. "I don't know much. Say, what's it to you anyway, buster?"

"I think I can help should he ever need it."

She poured Angelo a refill of his Corona, and said to me, dryly, "Well I don't think he's looking for a new partner, but he sure does need some help, all right," earning a few snickers from the other patrons seated at the bar. She glared stonily at them.

I sipped my drink, feeling more and more like an actor in a film noir flick, "I'm looking for work and I'll take what I can get."

"Eddie throws out his bills in the trash. Do you honestly think he'll hire anybody, regardless of how much he needs the help? I'd offer you a job here, but stuffing olives isn't exactly exciting. And the Terminal Station Bar is in danger of closing, and soon, too."

"Come on, doll-face," said Angelo, nursing his beer, "You're the heart and soul of this joint! Only reason I come here every day is to see your shining face."

"Ha!" she laughed.

"I wish you the best of luck keeping this place open if Cloverleaf takes over the Red Car line," I said, wanting to divert the conversation back to Eddie, still hoping I could find my way in through her.

"You mean _when_ it takes it over. I'm guessing you saw the big sign out front. It's not exactly hard to miss." She said, sourly.

"No. I mean _if_. There's a way out of this mess. I feel it in my gut. Speaking of the fate of the Red Car line, I hear rumors that Cloverleaf also bought Maroon Cartoons and are interested in Acme's properties."

"Well, I didn't hear that anything about that." She noticed I finished my drink, and she said, "That'll be thirty cents."

I handed her the twenty spot that Uncle George gave me, and Angelo whistled. "Whoo! You some kind of high roller, bub?"

Dolores counted out my change and handed it back to me. "Quit it, Angelo. Leave the guy alone."

Angelo backed down and sat back on his bar stool as I put my wallet in the inside pocket of my suit jacket. I awkwardly thanked her for the drink and decided to leave. Maybe Eddie was ready to approach now.

I approached the stairs, and walking down, I thought to myself how that went nowhere fast. Then I realized how stupid I was. I could have seriously altered the timeline just then! Heck, my _being_ here was changing things! Well… I thought uneasily as I crossed the street to head to Valiant's office, maybe it won't be too drastic. Maybe it'll turn out for the best. Maybe my actions here are the reason why certain scenes and characters were deleted from the film: because _I was there_! Because I, who wasn't supposed to be there _was_ there….. I could play the guessing game all I wanted after this was over. I scolded myself for getting distracted as I mounted the stairs to the main entrance of the building.

I hesitated before pushing the door open. He must be in there. Where else would he be? He won't take those pictures until later, so he's probably getting ready. With my knowledge of what would happen, I walked up to the third floor, and knocked on the door of Valiant and Valiant, room 710.

Just as Eddie was about to open the door, I wondered what I was doing here, really, since Dolores told me I wouldn't get a job helping him with his case. Then, it opened a crack, disrupting my train of thought. Eddie poked his head out of the door.

" I gave at the office. I'm not interested in a new vacuum, and yeah, I already heard the Good News. I don't talk to salesmen." said Eddie, gruffly. His shirt collar was undone, revealing a few scraggly chest hairs, turning gray, slightly. He needed a shave, and the stubble was also sprinkled with a touch of gray. His suspenders were dangling from his pants, and his tie was loosened almost to the point of being undone. He looked extremely disheveled.

"I'm not a salesman, Mr. Valiant. Although, by the looks of it, maybe you _do_ need a new vacuum for your office."

He glowered at me, and was about to slam the door in my face when I said, "I came to ask if you were looking to hire anybody. I'm looking for work and I'll take what I can get."

"Well, I sure as hell ain't hiring. Now beat it, buster. I'm in the middle of a case."

He came this close to closing the door in my face, so I gathered up the guts to stop it and walk in.

"I can help, you know," I said, as I walked in. "With your case."

"It's just a quick little snoop job. I don't need help to take a few pictures, kid. Now get the heck out of here already. And close that damned door behind you when you go."

"All right," I said, as I wrote down the address and phone number for Uncle George's place. "If you ever need help, my offer still stands." He didn't take the paper, so I set it down on his desk.

I lingered at the door, still debating whether or not to say anything more to him. Then, a really good, but also what I felt was a really bad idea popped into my head: I would wait till he headed back to Jessica's dressing room at the Ink and Paint club (assuming that the deleted scene from the movie was true), and follow him, to see if I could help!

That wouldn't happen until much later (Tomorrow, as a matter of fact), so instead, I walked around town a while. I bided my time, working out the details of the plan for several hours while window shopping until George picked me up, as he agreed on, where he dropped me off, and we drove home.

George and I got home at around 7 o'clock, and were met with a nice dinner, cooked by Margret, a kind woman slightly shorter than her husband, who bore a slight resemblance to my Pop-pop. She was beautiful, too. A roundish face, with wide lips with deep red lipstick. If you knew these types of things, you'd know she had a very eastern European face.

She wore a pink and white gingham housedress and had her short, curled hair tied back by a red scarf. All she needed was the strand of pearls around her neck to look like a flawless housewife. Regardless, she was just as welcoming as her husband, who had only told her that I was Rudy's cousin visiting from New York

We exchanged small talk. How did I like Los Angeles. How was New York, and the family. How long I'd be staying. George inquired whether or not I got the job at Valiant and Valiant, and I told him, tactfully, that Mr. Valiant would be thinking it over. I went to bed, exhausted, at around 10 o'clock, and woke up the nest morning, Friday, August 15th, almost the same as I felt last night. Time travel sure takes a lot out of a guy.

The next morning, I woke up to find myself _not_ in my room, _not_ in my own house, and _not_ in my own time. Then I remembered I was in the guest bedroom of George and Margaret's house. I checked my vintage watch on the nightstand, and saw it was 9:30. I heard movement in the kitchen and saw my great aunt and uncle making breakfast. Aunt Margret beat the eggs, and Uncle George prepared the bacon while I set the table. When breakfast was finished, Aunt Margret asked me, "Do you need any new clothes? I saw you have only one shirt and one suit. We could go shopping later today."

"You don't have to-"

"I insist. Please. Anything to help Rudy's cousin." She said, as she smiled sweetly.

I was about to say no thank you, but I stopped, remembering she and Uncle George never had any children. Maybe this was her way of being a mom for 's probably just the English student in me looking for symbolism in every sentence again, though. I'd only known the lady for a few hours, so I didn't think I could jump to conclusions yet.

"Bullock's opened at 9. It's on 7th and Broadway," offered Uncle George from the next room.

"I'm not one for shopping, usually, but all right. Count me in." I smiled.

We drove in her car, and several hours later, I walked out with a full 1940's wardrobe: one new suit, a few dress shirts, underclothes, and a few wide silk ties printed with geometric designs.

She and I drove back to Thousand Oaks, when we were greeted by Uncle George who was just about to head to work. He mentioned, distressed, that Marvin Acme was murdered last night, and that the morning paper was on the dining room table should we wish to read more about it.

On the front page- the full front page- was the story accusing Roger Rabbit of murder, Eddie of "fanning the flames of jealousy" with his pictures, and Acme's murder in grisly detail. Doom and the Toon Patrol were also quoted extensively in the article. Margaret, who knew Acme through George's work, suggested that we go to Acme's funeral, which was to be held later that day, to pay our respects. All the studio executives and top animators would be there if they could, and since George was swamped with work, we should go in his stead. I agreed, to possibly see if I could contact Eddie there.

It was held at Inglewood Cemetery, in southwestern L.A. I saw Eddie there, among the attendees, which, including many men and women- employees and executives, I guessed- was composed of mainly Toons I had never heard of before up until that point. Margaret named as many as she could. Then, who should show up but none other than R.K Maroon, who stepped out of a long black limo when Margaret and I arrived. Bluto, Popeye, Elmer Fudd, Herman the Mouse, Felix the Cat and Goofy unloaded the casket from the hearse, and Yosemite Sam bore the weight of the casket from below.

This odd procession walked towards the grave, and I noticed Felix the cat was fighting back tears.

I noticed Tom and Jerry, Catnip the Cat and Andy Panda directly across from me. Watching the Toons carrying the casket were Porky and Petunia Pig, Horace Horsecollar and Clarabelle Cow, Jerky Turkey, Red Hot Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf (Tex Avery's zoot-suited one. Not Zeke the wolf) and Droopy.

My eyes traveled up a ways and I saw Junior and George, more of Tex Avery's hound dog characters, Practical Pig, Sylvester the cat, Fifer and Fiddler Pig also in that row.

This, to me was even more heartbreaking than Acme's funeral. Who today remembers these once beloved characters?

Goofy exclaimed, "Gawrsh! Pall bearin's shore hard work ain't it? A-hyuck!", which I found to be in really bad taste.

Popeye replied, jokingly, "We're bearing Paul? I thought we were bearing Acme."

"Ah hates funerals," groused Yosemite Sam from under the casket.

Elmer Fudd chastised him, "How can you kid awound at a time wike this?"

Bluto must have thought the same thing as me, because as soon as the casket was set down, he and Popeye immediately started to have a fistfight. The pall-bearers peeled away from the sides of the casket, leaving poor Yosemite Sam with the full weight of it

He pulled out his pistols and hollered "Hold it, ya varmints! I'll plant him myself!"and, with that, he unceremoniously dumped the coffin in the grave. He continued, hollering to Foghorn Leghorn, "Awright, you big-mouthed bantam….preach!"

Valiant turned his head, and I followed his gaze, where I noticed Maroon walking up to Jessica, taking her arm and saying something to her, and the two left to talk privately. Valiant followed them.

I didn't have time to think about what just happened when Foghorn cleared his throat and began his sermon.

He drawled, "Today we commit the body of Brother Acme into the cold, cold, I say, I say, the cold, cold ground. We say goodbye to a man who was more generous than a homely widow with Sunday supper. Why, when Toonkind was splattered forth upon this landscape, we wandered these hills without a home, that is, until Brother Acme painted up his backyard for us to live in, thereby creating the old, I say old neighborhood…Toontown."

He droned on like this, and my eyes wandered upon Casper the friendly ghost accidentally scaring away Donald Duck, daffy Duck, Baby Huey, Hippety Hopper, Dick Tracy and Tubby the Tuba when he asked if someone would be his friend. (The old "IT'S A G-G-G-G-HOSSTTT! AHHHHH!" bit. You know what I'm talking about, right?)

Eddie came back from wherever he had followed Jessica and Maroon to, when Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse, and human actors Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable came driving up the hill to play golf, heaven knows where. I couldn't hear the conversation very well, but this was the best I could make out.

Bugs stepped out of the car and turned to Valiant, chewing a carrot. "Pardon me, Doc," he said, " I hate to interrupt your bird watchin', but is this the right boneyard for the Acme funeral?"

Valiant glanced at the four of them, decked out in golf playing outfits. Bogart was about to say something, but Bugs cut him off, "I know, I know, Doc… tis a hill of beans in this crazy, mixed up world."

He turned to Gable and said "Don't it bother you that he's always sayin' the same thing?"

Foghorn wrapped up his sermon. "We shed no tears for we know that Marvin is going to a better place. That high, high, I say that high-larious place in the sky."

With that, the Harvey Toons jack-in-the-box logo springing out of Acme's casket to the tune of "Pop Goes the Weasel" with a giant funeral wreath attached. The dirt was filled in by several cartoon buzzards, and eventually, it was only Eddie, Margaret and I left at the gravesite.

I whispered to Margaret "Could you maybe wait in the car? I'd like a moment alone to say a prayer for Mr. Acme." She said of course, and waited in her car.

He glanced over at me, and said, "Oh. It's you. I thought it was Captain Cleaver. He's from T.P.D, in Homicide." A long and awkward pause followed. "You know, I hate this place, kid." He said, suddenly turning towards me. "I always hated this place. Come on," he waved over to me, heading towards the right, "I wanna show you something."

He led me down a small hill where we stopped at a large marker labeled "Valiant". It bore three names. One read "Fredrick Valiant, Beloved Father and Husband, March 24th 1865-May 27th 1916". The second was, "Elizabeth Valiant, Beloved Wife and Mother, August 2nd 1869- March 15th 1926".

The final one read "Theodore J. Valiant, Brother, June 22nd 1895-August 13th 1942"

"Your family?" I guessed. I knew who Teddy was, but the first two must be his parents. Freddy and Betty, and their sons, Teddy and Eddie. Cute rhyme.

Eddie looked at me with a lost, distant look on his face. "Yeah… and Teddy was my brother. He was the brains behind our cases, and he did a lot of the detecting, while I did a lot of the legwork. He was a regular clothes-horse. Raked up high bills at Bullock's. He loved to dance, too. He loved Glenn Miller and all those Big Band leaders. We did almost everything together, even when we were kids, growing up in the circus with Ma and Pop. He was the one that brought Dolores and me together back when she was still our secretary. God, I remember back in Catalina like it was yesterday. It was August, back in '42; a few days before the accident that killed him. We goofed around, taking pictures and posing with sombreros and ukuleles… back when I still knew how to goof around. God damn it I miss him." His voice broke slightly. There was a silence for a few seconds. I really wished I could have met Teddy Valiant. He seemed like a truly great man. Without him, I truly think Eddie was…incomplete. It was Eddie and Teddy, Teddy and Eddie, Valiant and Valiant. Now…. it's just Valiant.

"Five years, yesterday." said Eddie, startling me. "Five years of staring down at the bottom of a bottle. You don't know what it's like, kid. You haven't lost someone you love."

"Mr. Valiant, there are many ways to lose someone you love. Right now, I'm stuck thousands of miles away from my family, and I have no idea if they even know where I am. I'm as lost to them as Teddy is to you, practically, and I can assure you, it hurts like crazy. We're both lost now, you and I. We're in the same boat."

I waited for him to say something, but he said nothing. "The only way we can find our way back is to let the past go already. It's dragging you down, and it's dragging me down."

He snorted derisively. "You gotta be what.. 18? What part of your past could you possibly regretting?"

"I did something incredibly stupid that wound me up here. I didn't even tell anyone I did it, and now my family's probably worried to death about me."

"Is that all? _I'm_ practically responsible for Teddy's death. I was the one who wanted to go into a little dive down on Yukster Street in Toontown to chase this guy who'd stolen a zillion simoleons from the Toontown bank. He dropped a piano on us from 15 stories….. I can still see that last look on Teddy's face when I realized it wasn't a Toon piano. He was still laughing, thinking we could just walk it off. I can still hear the sound of that wood splintering as Teddy was crushed under it. It shoulda been me that was under there. I shoulda pushed him out of the way."

His voice was raw and harsh. This took a lot to open up to me like this. After all these years it was still a fresh wound.

"You're right, Mr. Valiant," I began, at first not knowing what to say (I'm usually bad at comforting people), but I found my voice and said, "I don't know what you went through, but I do know that you aren't defined by what you did or didn't do that day. You aren't the one to blame for that. If you keep looking backwards, you can't go forwards. The last thing you say Teddy was doing before the piano fell was laughing, right? Remember him like that. He'd want you to remember him like that. It's important to remember him like that. And it wouldn't hurt to crack a smile every now and then, you know. A wise rabbit once told me that a laugh can be a very powerful thing."

I turned to face him directly, "Why, sometimes in life, it's the only weapon we have." Okay, this was pushing it. Roger already said that to him, so I was waiting for a how-did-you-know-that look, but I got nothing.

Instead, he smiled bitterly and said "Do you expect me to go out there and fight my demons -or whatever you're trying to say I should do-with a laugh?" he asked, bitterly.

"No, but I do expect you to not give up." Remembering what Uncle George and I talked about, I said, "Laughter makes us human. That's what these Toons are really for. We need something to recapture that pure love, and joy when we were young, before the world royally screwed us up. Toons are the physical embodiment of that pure love and innocence and imagination, and if we lose that, if we lose those basic things that make us human. We might as well be nothing. Be thankful you're still alive. Don't sit there wallowing in alcohol and regret Teddy wouldn't want that, I'm sure. You're not a pickle, so don't brine like one. And God knows that you've probably consumed enough alcohol over the past few years to brine and preserve you for a century. But just…just don't give up. That's my point. You need to live again. You need to solve this case of yours. Go home, back to your office and solve this thing. You'll feel better when this is all over. Everything will be different then."

"How do you know?"

"It's just a feeling. You helped almost everyone in Toontown at some point or another, I hear. It's time to help yourself. Don't let the one bad thing that happened to you stop you from living again."

After what seemed like an eternity, he said, "You're right, kid. I don't know why I opened up to a total stranger, but you're right." He exhaled through his nose slowly, "I'll go. I don't know what I'm going to do, exactly, with what I got about Acme's murder, but you're right."

"Trust me. All the answers are waiting at your office. You just have to find out where they're hiding. I know it still hurts to talk about this, but the only person who can make it stop is you. So don't drink and feel sorry about yourself. Don't be a pickle. Be…. Be a cucumber."

He gave me an odd look, but flashed a small smile. "Thanks for that bit of…incredibly weird advice, kid. You're not half bad. If I need you for anything, I'll drop you a line. I still got your card."

"I think you had better just come and pay a call personally."

"I will"

"Oh…Mr. Valiant?" I called.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Good luck."

"Thanks, kid. Thank you for that."

With that, he left, headed to his car, while I headed towards Aunt Margret's car. Our trip back was mostly in silence, but I'm sure she heard much of what I said to Eddie. I guess I did ok, then.

Later that afternoon, I pulled Uncle George aside and asked him to drive me back to LA.

"Is it important? Does it have to do with the case?" he asked, urgently.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm going to be risking my neck spying on what'll happen next. If you don't hear from me- and I'll call when I'm done- I'll probably be Downtown. In Downtown Toontown, that is."

He said, concerned, "I certainly hope you aren't going to do anything illegal, young man," I felt like a kid getting scolded by his father. "But," he continued, "if you really feel you know what you're doing, I suppose I can't stop you. After all, my job, along with Toontown itself, hangs in the balance."He said as we got in his car.

"It's not nearly as dramatic as that."

"What's your plan, anyway?"

"My plan," I said, as we were on our way to LA, "is to spy on what I know will happen next." Briefly, I told him what you'll be reading shortly enough. "Probably, I'll grab a weapon- something heavy- and try to help Valiant. My goal is to be kidnapped by the weasels, and hopefully distract them long enough so Eddie can solve the case without them on his tail."

George said darkly, "I know what those weasels are capable of. Make your one phone call to me, and I'll be over there as soon as I can to get you out of there, if you need me to. Only if you need me to. They'll listen to what I have to say if you use my name. Toons have a lot of respect for their animators." We pulled up at the corner of South hope and 11th and I climbed out of the car. "Be safe, Adam. Please?"

"I will, Uncle George!" I called, as he drove back to Thousand Oaks.

My next move was to hide in the back seat of Eddie's car. I didn't have too much trouble finding it, because his deep turquoise '41 Ford Deluxe Coupe, which he left unlocked, parked in front of the office building. It wasn't too long before I was fully covered by his trench coat on the floor in the back seat, while Eddie climbed into the car, and headed off towards the Ink and Paint Club, to search for Acme's will in Jessica Rabbit's dressing room (this was the deleted scene that was in between where Eddie leaves Roger with Dolores in the bar, and Jessica says "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way.")

He parked, and got out of his car. I heard some trash cans clattering, and decided it was safe to leave. While he had climbed in the window, and fell right on his kiester, I peeked in the window to see him opening the door, and Bongos, that gorilla bouncer knocked him out cold.

I knew he'd be all right, so pretty soon, Judge Doom and Jessica entered the room, and Eddie came to a few minute later.

Jessica, with her enormous bosom, tiny waist, shapely legs and backside, was on her bed. She was putting on a pair of stockings under her revealing, red sequined dress. She was a red-head, with a Veronica Lake peek-a-boo hairstyle, green eyes, and purple eye-shadow. She also wore long purple elbow-length gloves.

"Pick him up," Doom said to the gorilla, who lifted him into a chair.

"Rummaging in a lady's dressing room!" exclaimed the Judge nastily, "Tisk, tisk, tisk! What were you looking for, Mr. Valiant?" he said, leering at him from over the rims of his antique spectacles.

Jessica said, from her seat on the bed, "Last week, some heavy breather wanted one of my nylons as a souvenir."

"'Look, doll," Eddie said to her, "If I'd have wanted underwear, I'd have broken into Fredrick's of Hollywood! You know damn well I was looking for Marvin Acme's will!"

Doom said, "Marvin Acme had no will. I should know. The estate's in my jurisdiction.", and he sat down in a chair, facing him.

Eddie said, "'There's a will, all right! She (indicating Jessica) and R.K Maroon killed him for it!'"

Jessica said, adjusting her other stocking, "That's absurd!"

Eddie countered with "Someone else was in here looking for the will, too! Probably Maroon's flunkies! And I would've caught them too, if cheater here (meaning Bongos) hadn't interrupted me!"

Doom looked at Eddie, and the gorilla reached out to take a swing at him, and Doom said, "Take it easy, Bongos! We'll handle Mr. Valiant our own way." And he got this smirk on his face and said: "Downtown.'"

Eddie obviously thought he meant Downtown, as in the L.A P.D, so he said "Downtown! Fine! Let's get a hold of Santino!" (referring to his friend, Lt. Santino)

But Doom said "Oh. I'm not talking about _that_ Downtown. I'm talking about Downtown _Toontown_."

The smile melted off of Eddie's face. Smartass and the rest of the members of the Toon Patrol walked in and said "You were warned to say outa this case, Valiant! But you didn't!" He walked over to Doom and smiled menacingly.

Eddie got really scared then, and began to beg, "No, not Toontown, No, please, no!", and the next thing I know the Toon Patrol drags Eddie kicking and screaming out the door.

This was my moment, I decided. I reached around for something I could use as a weapon before Eddie was dragged away to where I couldn't help him, and my fingers found…. an old teapot. How was this going to help? I dug through the piles of junk again and found a bent, but heavy lead pipe! But it was stuck, and when I finally freed it, everything else in the pile clattered free. I cringed, hoping they wouldn't hear it. I wanted to get in there as stealthily as possible, but, joy of joys, the Judge stuck his head out the window, shouted something I couldn't hear as I kept on trying to lift up the pipe, and I felt hands grab me. Several pairs of hands with spindly fingers and sharp claws.

"Looks like we got us a Peeping Tom, boss!" rasped a husky Spanish accent in my ear. My nose was assaulted with the reek of Brylcreem hair pomade, cheap whiskey, _nasty_ cologne, and tobacco. Soon, as Greasy and Wheezy took my left arm, and the two new weasels, Slimy and Flasher latched onto my right. Smartass stood in front of me, puffing on a Cuban cigar. Inhaling a pungent plume of smoke he blew in my face, he sneered, "Put him in the back of the van, boys! Let's take 'em both Downtown!"

I struggled to free myself from their grasps, and I shouted, "Let me go! I want to see a lawyer! Let me go, dammit!"

"No way in hell we're letting you go, kid!" said Smartass venomously, "You were caught spying- and don't tell me you wasn't, cause I saw your mug in the window- and do you wanna know what we do with spies down in Toontown?"

Psycho giggled: "Heheheheheheheee! What do you want to do with him, boss? The Chinese finger trap? Wet willies?"

"No, Psycho: those are only for Toons. The kid gets something _real_ special, don't he boys?"

A chorus of "yups", "yeahs" and "uh-huhs" from the other Weasels sounded off just then as each one looked at me with various degrees of sinister grins.

Slowly moving around me, Smartass said, "First, kid, we'll take you down to the jail cells, where you'll spend a little while thinking about what you did. Then," he running the tip of his switchblade down my cheep and digging it in slightly, " _We_ work our magic on you!"

"The Pig-head treatment, boss?" asked Greasy, hopefully.

"No, men," said Judge Doom from behind us, "Save the Pig-head treatment for Valiant. Leave the boy to me."

"You gonna give the kid the Third Degree, boss?" asked Smartass.

"Yes, Sergeant. Giving him the Third Degree will make him tell us everything we know."

He nodded to the Weasels. "Toss him in with Valiant. I daresay he won't complain."

The back of their black '37 Dodge Humpback opened, where Eddie was restrained in the holding cell. I was tossed in the back of the van like a sack of flour. Before the door was slammed shut, I demanded, "Well, aren't you at least going to read me my rights?"

"As far as we're 'discerned', kid, you _have_ no rights!" spat Smartass, as he slammed the doors shut, engulfing me in total darkness.

"Let me go!" I said, through gritted teeth.

"Is that you, kid?" called an incredulous Valiant, muffled from the back of the car.

"I don't know. Tell me, is it?' I replied, sarcastically as the Weasels dragged me closer to the car.

"Kind of sounds like you."

"That's a load off my mind. I'm never sure these days." I snapped.

"What are you doing here?" called Valiant. "Get out of here! It's dangerous!"

"The kid don't especially got a choice!" sneered Smartass as the back of their black '37 Dodge Humpback opened, where Eddie was restrained in the holding cell. I was tossed in the back of the van like a sack of flour. Before the door was slammed shut, I demanded, "Well, aren't you at least going to read me my rights?"

"As far as we're 'discerned', kid, you _have_ no rights!" spat Smartass, as he slammed the doors shut.

End of part 1


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2:

(continued from first part)

"As far as we're 'discerned', kid, you _have_ no rights!" spat Smartass, as he slammed the doors shut.

"That's it!" I hollered. "I've had enough of you weasels! When I get out of here, I'll... I'll-"

"Save your breath kid. It ain't gonna do you any good to yell at them." said Eddie, a few inches away from me.

The ride to wherever- it- was they were taking us was hot, and stuffy, and smelled of old cigarettes and cheap whiskey. Smartass' erratic driving only made the trip worse, so when the time came for us to stop, I didn't think I was in any condition to do anything, let alone be interrogated by that gargoyle of a judge. It didn't help one bit that Wheezy, Psycho, Slimy and Flasher were taunting us in the back The taunting ebbed and flowed as they ran out of names to call us, and nasty things they said they'd do to us, so Eddie and I finally managed to have a conversation:

Despite that, Eddie was, for the first time since I knew him, petrified. Ignoring the weasels, I said, grumpily, "Well, this was some plan."

"What are you talking about? Everything was going fine! You saw what happened. I could have handled them! And what were _you_ doing there?"

The ride to wherever- it- was they were taking us was hot, and stuffy, and smelled of old cigarettes and cheap whiskey. Smartass' erratic driving only made the trip worse, so when the time came for us to stop, I didn't think I was in any condition to do anything, let alone be interrogated by that gargoyle of a judge. It didn't help one bit that Wheezy, Psycho, Slimy and Flasher were taunting us in the back The taunting ebbed and flowed as they ran out of names to call us, and nasty things they said they'd do to us, so Eddie and I finally managed to have a conversation:

Despite that, Eddie was, for the first time since I knew him, petrified. Ignoring the weasels, I tried to break the tension and said, "Well, this was some plan."

"What are you talking about? Everything was going fine! You saw what happened. I could have handled them! And what were _you_ doing here?"

"I was trying to help you! Listen, I know what's going on: this is way bigger than just the murder of one old jokester."

He said, "What could you possibly know about my case, kid?"

"Plenty! I know the connection! Cloverleaf wants to get a hold of Toontown. That's why Maroon plans to sell his studios to them. So Cloverleaf can take over Toontown and destroy-."

"You _do_ realize that Cloverleaf industries is a mega automobile manufacturing company, right? Why would they want Toontown? Or a cartoon studio? It makes sense why they bought out the Red Car line, but not why they'd want Toontown or a cartoon studio,"

"It's the only thing that makes sense Cloverleaf bought the Red Cars to put them out of business to-'' He cut me off.

"I don't think money laundering has anything to do with this. And, besides, why would Judge Doom and his goons be so concerned about this?"

"Shaddap!" growled Wheezy, who then broke into a massive couching fit.

I ignored him."They're in on it, Eddie! They….that is, Doom… Doom ki-." I almost told him the truth about Doom right then and there, but that was the last thing in the world they needed to hear right now.

He made a small noise of exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. I said, "Look, Eddie, I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I _do_ know that Cloverleaf, Maroon, Acme, and Toontown and Judge Doom are all connected. It seems to me like you could have used all the help you could get back there!"

"By that way of thinking when we get out of…whatever it is that these damned ferrets have planned for us, help me!"

"Hey!" exclaimed Slimy, his voice figuratively oozing contempt and literally oozing slime everywhere else (hence his name), "We ain't no ferrets! Now you just quit flapping your gums before I make you!"

I talked over him as if he'd said nothing. " I'm not cut out for this kind of work. I could never replace Teddy."

"So that's why you…. Look, I'm not worried about that, kid. I'm not looking for a partner; I'm looking for help, and you're to the only guy I could trust now. Since you claim to have all the answers, it only makes sense that-"

"I really can't, Eddie. You don't understand. I'm just a kid; not a film noir detective. I'm not chickening out, Eddie, but I simply can't help and I'm scared out of my mind, and I'm lost…and…and… I just want to go home," I said, miserably. "I'm not like you. You're a survivor. There's a reason you last name is Valiant and why my last name isn't."

"So much for what you said back to me in the cemetery, kid!"

I said, self-deprecatingly, "I know, but this is something I can't do. I have a feeling this could end very badly if I were to join in on all this so late in the game. It's just not meant to be. You and Roger are the only ones who can do this and succeed. I'm sorry, Eddie, but I can't help you now."

"That's it!" shouted Wheezy, "I've had enough of you two yapping! Don't you two know that you're supposed to be prisoners fa Christ's sake?"

Psycho giggled insanely. "Can we gag them now, Wheezy? I wanna gag them!

Wheezy was about to say something, when, just then, the car came to a screeching halt, and the four Weasels in the back flew against the back doors and were literally flattened. They peeled off like old strips of wall paper once the doors opened. It was night-time where we were, but we were parked directly under a streetlamp, and the sudden light nearly blinded Eddie and I.

Plainly, from the merry sounds of laughter and the dreamy, pastel night sky, with its laughing moon, we were in Toontown. "We can handle these weasels." I faltered, as Eddie was dragged out of the van.

A gag was promptly placed over my mouth, and I, too, was dragged into the dingy jail building. Like all the buildings in Toontown, it was angular, with a face incorporated into its design. The two large windows in front shone with a burning red light, suggesting menacing eyes, and the extended front entrance with windows of graduated sizes, suggested a leering grin. The whole building was an ugly shade of gray, and the interior was no better. The offices had furniture with blinking eyes that followed the weasels and myself, followed up in the rear with Judge Doom, his outdated Inverness cape billowing in an unseen breeze.

The core 5 weasels shoved me in a rickety chair that I wasn't certain could fully hold my weight, and saw my wrists being bound together by Stupid. We must have been in Doom's private office. There were all sorts of blueprints on his antique oak desk, and the filthy walls were covered in photos of all the Toons he'd dipped in his five year reign of terror as Toontown's hanging judge.

Judge Doom (Hiram L. Doom, according to the nameplate on the battered old door) was almost identical to the way he was portrayed in the film, except he carried a large black doctor-style bag, and had a Toon vulture-Voltaire, his name was- perched on his shoulder. I cringed, because I couldn't _un-see_ the image of him dressed as Doctor Emmet Brown from "Back To the Future" (Another film that Christopher Lloyd, who played Judge Doom in "Who Framed Roger Rabbit"). The real Doom and his actor counterpart were 100% identical.

He sat in front of me on a sagging, dusty loveseat which literally groaned when he sat in it. The carved lion's paws on the legs of the chair flexed their toes in protest.

"Tell me, young man, what were you doing spying on us? And what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Valiant? My men observed you talking intimately with him at Marvin Acme's funeral."

I felt that the truth would help better than nothing, so I said, "I first approached him a few days ago looking for a job. He turned me down, but we bumped into each other earlier today at Acme's funeral, (Ok, here, I lied) and then earlier today when he stopped by at my Uncle George's house- that's George Kreisl, the animator and artist, mind you- to see if I wanted the job after all. I turned him down, because I will be leaving the city sometime soon," I said, trying to sound calm, but only ended up sounding like what I was: a seventeen-year-old scared out of his mind, and being interrogated by a truly evil man.

All those daydreams where I'd pictured myself in a similar situation, and I act unafraid in his presence, and tell him I know everything weren't even worth the brain power I used to think of them. I was in way over my head and I knew it. He could sense I was scared stiff, too. You could see it in that reptilian smile he had plastered on his face.

"I see," he said, coldly, his glasses glinting. The vulture on his shoulder squawked at me, and Doom smiled evilly. "Would you like to know what I have to say about that?"

He opened his black bag, and out hopped twelve Toon mother kangaroos. Twelve joeys came out of their pouches with letter placards, which, between the twelve of them, spelled out, "Y-O-U-A-R-E-G-U-I-L-T-Y." A genuine Kangaroo court. Would ya look at that!

"That," sneered Doom, "is what I have to say about your story. There is something you are not telling us, and until you feel like telling us exactly what, you will stay here. Slimy and Flasher will watch your every move, so I doubt you'll be able to escape."

"Don't worry, Judge," said Slimy. "We'll watch the kid. We'll make sure he don't escape!" Man, this guy needed a box of Kleenex. Badly, too.

"I have no doubt that you will," said Doom. To the remaining weasels, he said, "Let me know when you're through interrogating Valiant, men, as I have other business to take care of. Now, I-"

I cut him off. "You can't just leave me here," I said, "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"That is entirely up to me to decide, young man. I am a judge, after all, and I say that you're impeding an official investigation into the murder of Marvin Acme. Obstruction of justice, liable for a lengthy prison sentence."

"I'll get out of here, and when I do, I'll tell everyone who you are and what you're planning!"

He whirled around and stormed closer to me. "What did you say?" he demanded, his voice steely calm, but radiating with anger.

"I know your secret, Judge. And not just the business about the freeway, either. I know who you really are, you vile old-"

"Now, that will be enough of that! Flasher," Doom called over to the trench-coated weasel, "Gag him."

I moved my head this way and that, struggling to avoid getting gagged saying, "Why do you never blink? Ever? Why is there a breeze that always tugs at the hem of your cape, even indoors? Why do you wear gloves, and those tinted spectacles?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're implying." He said, slowly, drawing out the sentence stonily.

"You know darn well what I mean. You're a Toon in a mask. _You_ framed Roger Rabbit for Marvin Acme's murder!"

He said nothing, so I continued, "That would have been right around the time that the First National Bank of Toontown was broken into. You stole that moved to bribe your way to the post of chief jurist of Toontown, but not before you killed Theodore Valiant! And then you hired the Weasels, forming the Toon Patrol, and you've been reigning over Toontown for 5 years! You know that I'm right, VonRotten." I challenged him, looking directly into his bright, unblinking eyes.

I saw a small flicker of fear flash across his face, but he simply said, "Absolute nonsense. You say you're related to an animator? The…zaniness of his working with Toons all day long must have rubbed off on you."

He called over to the remaining Weasels, who were watching in the door. "Come, men, you've got a detective to interrogate! And _I_ …." He said, taking a sinister pause, "have some urgent matters of business to attend to." With a flourish of his heavy cape, Doom and the Toon Patrol left the office and headed down into the bowels of the jail to do who-knows-what to Eddie.

"Somebody ought to give you a pat on the back!" I called over to the Judge. "With an axe." I added.

He didn't even turn around.

"Save the one liners for the funny pages, chump!" called Smartass over his shoulder.

Hours turned into minutes, and the Toon moon in the window started to yawn and grow dim. As the sun rose on August 16th, I was kept under constant surveillance by the remaining weasels, and I was trying, and slowly succeeding to undo the knot. Luckily, it wasn't done too elaborately and slowly but surely, I untied myself. When I finally freed myself, I kept my hands behind my back, and called over to Slimy, "Hey, you got any booze in this dump?"

"Got a craving, huh, kid? Ain't you a little young to be an alcoholic?" sneered Slimy, pouring a drink into a shot glass from a dusty decanter of single malt whiskey.

"I don't drink alcohol: I drink distilled spirits. So therefore I'm not an alcoholic- I'm a Spiritualist." So far, my plan seemed to be working. If I was right, and these guys handled their liquor the way Roger could- which was not at all….

"Well, Spiritualist or whatever you call yourself, I got news for ya, kid: that drink is all mine!" Slimy gulped down the shot.

You could see the liquid go down his skinny throat as his Adam's apple moved along with it, but then he dropped the glass. "Aw….shi-" He muttered, as his face slowly became red, like a rising thermometer. It contorted and turned green and blue and his eyes popped out of his head. The sound of a steam whistle grew louder and louder, and Slimy shot up in the air like a rocket, smoke blowing out of his ears. A gale-force wind shook up torrents of dust in the room, and I leaped the door in the flurry of papers, leaving Slimy still up in the air.

I crept out of the jail, quietly and uneasily. All the eyes in the furniture were following me as I tip-toed out the main entrance. The only soul who looked up as I passed was a very bored looking Toon secretary who paused from her game of Solitaire only for a moment to see me.

Since it seemed to be a habit of mine lately to do stupid things, I climbed into the back of the Toon Patrol's van, making triple sure that nobody was going to come bursting out of the jail, screaming "Somebody stop that kid!". I didn't exactly relish the thought of climbing back into that hot and musty car again, but since I knew what would happen next, I figured I'd take advantage of it: the Weasels brought me here, and whether they knew it or not, they were going to get me out of here, too!

I clambered behind some bags of dirty laundry (manly mountains of dirty socks that I could only hope weren't toxic enough to make me faint. I only had to wait. It was about three minutes until the doors opened and Eddie was tossed in. The car rumbled to life, and we were speeding out of Toontown very soon.

They stopped almost at the mouth of the tunnel that led to Toontown, and the doors opened once more. I crept out while the Weasels were busy with Eddie. I could only silently watch as Eddie was dragged out of the van, and was drop-kicked, flying out of the entrance to the tunnel with a sack over his head. I knew what this was: the infamous deleted pig-head sequence.

"Kinda stubborn, wasn't he, boss?" I heard Greasy chuckle, and Smartass said, slyly, "Kinda pigheaded, I say! I think it's safe to 'presume' he got the message!"

So Eddie, hearing this, took off the sack they had covering his head. He wondered what they were laughing about, and felt where his head should be. Of course, he felt the giant cartoon pig's head. The open mouth revealed his face. It was smiling stupidly, had floppy ears and was wearing Eddie's fedora on his head. An image of a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth came to mind.

Once Eddie realized what they did to him, he began running down the street screaming "AH! I've been Toon-a-rooed!" I knew, from watching the rest of the deleted scene that he'd be ok. He'd wash it off in the shower using turpentine. Then the whole "I'm not bad" thing would happen. Hopefully, this doesn't change things too much… But I didn't have time to worry about that.

I snuck into the bushes as the Weasels headed back into Toontown, and made my way, slowly, back into the city limits. The first telephone booth I saw, I used to call Uncle George. I said nothing as he picked me up, still _very_ shaken by what just happened, and once we got home, I collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to fully un-dress, even though it was early morning.

I woke up to find myself covered with a blanket. Margaret must have done it. How sweet of her, I thought, as I drifted to sleep again. When I woke up for good, I quickly showered and got dressed. I was dismayed to learn that it was almost 8 pm! I slept over 12 hours!

I was nearly in full panic mode when Aunt Margaret walked in, dressed in a coat with broad shoulders, and a kerchief tied around her hair.

"Let's go, Adam!" she cried. "Or else it'll be too late to save Toontown!" She was so agitated that she almost tripped while walking over to her car. "Hop in! I'll take you as far as Toontown!"

I wasted no time climbing in the car. "Uncle George told you?" I asked, incredulously as she sped down the road.

"He told me everything, yes!" she shouted over the noise of the highway. "You're making me proud to be your great-aunt, now."

I reddened. I certainly wasn't expecting that! But what did I do to deserve that kind of praise? I needed to do something _real_ this time, something that will actually help, for once.

Slowly, as we were entering LA, a plan began to form in my mind. Something I really could do to help! And I knew just what to do!

"We're here!" She called, as she pulled to a stop in front of the mouth of the tunnel to Toontown.

I got out of the car, and she said, "I hear a car coming."

"Go, Aunt Margaret. Drive back home."

"But-… but don't you need me?"

"I have to do this alone. It's going to be dangerous. You need to be there for Uncle George."

"All right…." She hesitated before turning the key in the ignition. "Promise me you'll be safe."

Look at me. A big noble hero… I'm almost embarrassed I said any of that to her. It wasn't like I was going to die!

"I will!" I called over. Just then, I saw the Judge again, waiting underneath the streetlamp with a barrel of Dip (for those of you not in- the- know, it's a mix of paint thinners. The only thing that can kill a Toon. That's how Smartass is later killed, by the way, after the other Weasels die of laughter in the big showdown in the Acme Factory).

I ducked out of the way and hid behind the Hollywoodland Realty sign across the street. Just as Eddie and Jessica drove by in Benny the talking cab (the attitude of a cabbie and a cab rolled into one) Doom kicked the barrel of Dip over, spilling it out into the street and severely damaging Benny's wheels.

I could only watch helplessly as the Weasels pulled up and dragged them off to the Acme factory.

I needed to act fast! Benny was unconscious, and he would later accompany Roger to the Acme factory once he came to, so I left him alone for now. Once the Weasels drove off, I realized something crucial: I didn't know where the Acme factory was! But as I began panicking all over again in the middle of the street, I was nearly run over by a familiar looking '41 deep-turquoise Ford Deluxe Coupe. It looked like it was chewed; swallowed and spat back out of the mouth of Hell, but it was still easily recognizable as Eddie Valiant's car. The top had been sheared off and dangled like a paint chip stuck in a spider's web, most likely because the driver of the car was Roger Rabbit, himself.

"Jeepers, buddy!" he exclaimed, "I almost hit you!"

He pulled over to the side of the road and hopped out towards me. "Say, do I know you? I'm Roger," he exclaimed, grabbing my hand with both of his and shaking it up and down rapidly until his arm literally wiggled like spaghetti. "Roger Rabbit."

It was an incredible moment, shaking hands with him. He had a definite weight to him, and you could feel it. It was about the same weight as your average handshake. I felt his fur, and it _felt_ like real rabbit fur, but didn't look like my brushing my hand against his arm had any effect on its surface. The cloth of his gloves had a satin-y feel to them, but didn't look textured. I almost expected him to have no weight at all, but here he was, all three-and-a-half feet, and 35 pounds of Roger Rabbit, standing before me.

When he moved, he wasn't two-dimensional, in the sense that I could see the contours that formed his body, and the wrinkles in his red overalls, and the highlights and the shadows. It was like looking at an action figure or a comic book character: they look flat on the screen or in the drawing, but in person, they have shape, and substance and contours. Does that make sense?

This was when I knew I wasn't in Kansas anymore, so to speak. This was my defining moment. To have a living, breathing, talking creature made of celluloid, paint and ink right there with me, and shaking hands with him was life-changing. I'm not kidding.

"Nice to finally meet you. Look, Mr. Rabbit, I-"

"Call me Roger, p-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-lease, "he said, sputtering out the "P" in "Please". He smiled warmly. "So what's a human doing all the way out here, anyways?"

"I… the Toon Patrol, and Doom and… they -."

"What does the Toon Patrol want with you?"

"Well, you see-"

"I hate those guys! They're after me, too!"

"Yeah, I-"

"You don't think I did all those bad things they say I did in the papers do ya?"

"No, Roger, I-"

"Phew!" he wiped a hand across his forehead." I'm glad that somebody's on my side! Because I didn't kill Acme! I can't hurt a fly! I won't and shan't hurt a fly! You gotta believe me!"

"I do, and -"

"I couldn't hurt anybody like that! I only want to make people laugh! I couldn't kill anyone! Period! "

He thought for a moment, and continued, "Exclamation point, question mark, semi colon, and lastly, comma!" he said, with a flourish of his yellow gloved hands.

"I can see that, Roger, and-"

"So how'd you escape from the Toon Patrol?"

"I made one of them drink whiskey-"

"It's that kind of comedy that's not in the entertainment business nowadays. I mean, look at my boss, R.K Maroon. He doesn't have a sense of humor! And then there's my buddy, Eddie Valiant! Ever hear of him? He's-"

"I know who he is. He and I are…..acquaintances. You can't exactly be friends with Eddie Valiant."

"Oh I know! He's a real, genuine, one-hundred-percent hardboiled private eye! You know, I never met one before I met Eddie! Man, if there was ever a guy who needed a laugh, it's Eddie!"

"I know, I know, I know. I heard about his brother." Would he just quit it already? We both had places to be!

"But what I was saying before about the entertainment business…did you hear about this new fuss everyone's making over television sets? It's like a movie theater right in your own home! This isn't good!"

That jolted me out of my flurry of panic. "Why not?"

"This'll be the end of cartoons being shown before films! I'll be out of work!"

"Oh, no you won't! Maybe they'll show your cartoon skits on TV. You never know. This'll be the wave of the future!"

"You really think so?" he looked up towards me, hopefully.

"Sure! What with your…..talents, " I said, not saying what I really wanted to say, which was "hyperactivity levels that rival a hummingbird after eating too much sugar", "I'm sure you'll do fine. There's always work for comedians."

"That's super, buddy! I knew talking to you was a god idea! Now, I-"

I cut him off, "Don't you have some running away to do?"

His eyes widened. "Oh you're right! I can't stay here! Not with the weasels after me! Do you need a ride? I can drive, no problem! I'm the best driver I know!" he said, a smile beaming on his face.

Yes, I thought. That's why the car looks like it lost a fight with a can opener.

I weighed my options. A car ride with Roger Rabbit that would most certainly bring on imminent death, or a car ride with Roger Rabbit, the title character of my favorite movie. I decided on the second choice, and hopped in Eddie's car.

"Where to? I know this city like the back of my paw!" he said, indicating the back of his left paw. He peered at it closely, "Say, is that a new splotch?"

I might end up regretting this. "J-just drop me off at the Terminal Bar on 6th and South Hope."

"Okey-dokey!" he said, driving away from Toontown at breakneck speeds. I gripped the door handles do hard that my knuckles turned white. Roger Rabbit was definitely a lead-foot driver if I ever saw one.

This car ride was even worse than the trip with the Toon Patrol. It must be something with Toons that makes the majority of them such awful drivers.

We turned a sharp corner and Roger nearly flew out of the car. "Where did you get your license?!" I screamed over the noise of the wind, "Out of a cracker jack box?"

"No, silly! That's where I got my social security card!" he hollered, narrowly avoiding crashing into a lamp post, "I got my license at the Toontown Department of Motor Vehicles!" he laughed. "See for yourself!"

He took out his wallet, not focusing at all on the road, and showed me his license, which had a goofy headshot of him, cross-eyed.

With a gloved hand, still not looking at the road, he tapped the bottom of the card, "It says here that I'm an organ donor, too! But the joke's on them, since I only have a piano! Whoo-hoo-hoo!"

I tightened my grip on my seatbelt. For about the fifteenth time hat day, I wondered what the heck I'd gotten myself into.

We arrived at the Terminal Bar, and it was very late. Almost 11:20. I was shaking like a Chihuahua, when Roger pulled to a stop.

He finished a joke that I could hardly hear over the chattering of my teeth, saying, "And _then_ I said to Benny, 'Who says I'm a bad cook? You haven't tried my cereal yet!"

"Ha-ha," I muttered flatly, too shaken up to at least manage a fake chuckle.

He hopped out of the car and opened my door. With a sweeping flourish of his hands, he said, "Okay, buddy! Here we are! Thanks for using Roger's Car Company! I'll see you around! I gotta head back to Toontown!"

"Wait!" I called over to him as he hopped –literally- into the car. "Don't forget to check on Benny! I saw him on the side of the road by the tunnel to Toontown!"

"Oh, that isn't good! I gotta go help my buddy!" he called. "So long, pal!" He sped off towards Toontown, leaving me wanting to kiss the ground with relief for no longer being in that death-trap of a car. Needless to say that was kind of a deterrent for learning to drive.

I shakily walked up the steps, and not surprisingly, the bar was still open. They had a late-night happy hour. Dolores was wiping down the counter, and there were a few people sitting around the tables.

"You again?" asked Dolores, with a sour frown. "Shouldn't you be in bed, or sneaking out to go to the late-night movies with a girl or something?"

I said, sarcastically, "Your concern is appreciated, Ms. Verne. I was just kidnapped by the Toon Patrol yesterday, and got a lift here, courtesy the world's worst driver." I plastered a fake smile on face, "How was _your_ day? Did you have fun stuffing olives and pouring martinis?"

She blinked a few times. She was still wearing her red suit that I remembered from an earlier scene in the film, but had removed the jacket and the purple straw hat. She was wearing a white tailored blouse with shoulders padded like a lunatic's cell.

"And I thought _my_ day was rough," she said, wringing out her rag in the sink. She whirled around and asked, "Say, have you seen Eddie? He just stormed out of the movie theater with Roger with some crazy idea in his head about how to crack this case of his."

"Oh, so I see Eddie _has_ told you about me. And I did see him. He was in Toontown, actually. He and Jessica are heading to the Acme Factory-"

"Oh, _her_. That painted hussy, "she scowled, the dislike evident in her voice, "But what would they be doing in the Acme Factory?"

"I don't have time for this! They were kidnapped by Doom and his Weasel thugs! Doom's behind all of this!...Are you shocked?"

"Not especially. That Nazi of a judge would sell his own mother to get what he wants," said Dolores, stepping around the back of the bar and sitting next to me. "Assuming he hasn't already."

"Assuming that gargoyle even has a mother," I said, cynically. "So what exactly has Eddie said about me?" I asked, not really sure I wanted to know what the answer was. I mean, this _was_ Eddie we're talking about.

"He said that you talked when you were at Acme's funeral. You helped him a lot, you know. He said you told him to finish this case, and even though he started to give up, I could see that whatever you said to him made a difference. I haven't seen him look like that in years. Not since his brother died. Whatever you said, it was a wakeup call. I'm just happy he hasn't touched a drop in two whole days," she said, rolling her eyes slightly.

"I really am glad that I could help Eddie," I said, truthfully, but urgently. I need to am-scray. I gotta go help if I can!" I rose from my seat, and was swept up in a quick hug from Dolores. She whispered, "Thank you." Her eyes glistened a bit.

She sniffled, and asked, her voice suddenly urgent as she processed what I said "Would you like a ride back to the factory? It's late, and I don't want you walking alone. Besides, the Red Cars don't run this time of the night."

"Thanks Dolores. After the day I've had, I don't think I could handle walking."

Just as we were about to hop in Dolores' car, Aunt Margaret and Uncle George pulled up beside us.

They rushed out of the car, and after I explained what happened, Aunt Margret cried, "I'm so glad that you're safe!" and she gave me a surprisingly strong hug for a woman her size. "I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you."

"I'm beginning to regret ever drawing those damned weasels," muttered Uncle George from his seat on the dining room chair. "But speaking of drawing things, if you'll come here, I have the spats I promised you."

From the pocket of his bathrobe, he withdrew a pair of gray Toon spats and handed them to me. "You can go home," he said, softly.

"We even have your suitcases ready." He added, reaching into the back of Margaret's car and handing them to me.

I looked back at Dolores and Aunt Margret, and then turned to look at Uncle George. Strangers who took me in and made me feel like family when I really needed it. I couldn't leave any of them without doing something to repay that debt.

"I won't be leaving yet. You've all been so kind, all of you, and I can't thank you enough. I have something that I need to do first to repay you guys."

To Dolores, I said, "Could you give me a lift to Toontown? It's urgent."

"Sure," she said, not fully understanding why. "I thought you wanted to go to the Acme factory, but ok. If you think this'll help."

Margret _and_ George hugged me goodbye. I dropped my suitcases in surprise, matter of fact.

"I'll stop by again." I drew in a deep breath, and it shakily came out, "I really will miss you both so much." I sniffled a bit.

"It was nice having you visit," said Margaret, a bit sadly.

George said, a bit awkwardly at first, since he wasn't the type for sappy goodbyes, "So long. It's been a very interesting visit, I'll say." He smiled a bit. "I really do hope we see each other again, someday."

"I do too. You guys helped me more than you know, really."

I saw them waving from their as we rounded the corner, as I got into Dolores' car.

When we had reached the entrance to Toontown, it was fifteen minutes to midnight. I told Dolores to wait outside, and that I would be heading into Toontown alone, and leaving from there.

She sighed, but managed a small smile. "I guess this is goodbye, kid, huh?"

"Yeah.. it is. But I'll be back before you know it. I promise I will." I said, as I started to climb out of the car.

"Oh…Dolores?"

"Yeah?"

I smiled. "Thank you."

With that, I entered Toontown on foot, all alone.

I thought of what Eddie said to me earlier, and I realized that I needed to do something, anything, to help, no matter how insignificant it seemed.

I gathered up all the Toons I could find and told them to wait by the wall that separated Acme's factory from Toontown. I figured that, however small a thing it was, it was a way of restoring the hope of the Toons. They would soon know that their home wouldn't be destroyed. Of course, I didn't tell them that. I would let them find that out when Roger read Acme's will. My hope was restored when Uncle George helped me to get back home, so it was the least I could do to give back a little of what I got. It's corny, I know, but it's the truth.

My Big Moment happened when I told the operators of the Toontown Express, a train that goes around the perimeter of Toontown, to make a last minute alteration to the route.

"What are you talking about, kid? Why should we?" demanded a Toon bulldog in a railroad worker's jumpsuit.

"If you want Toontown to be saved, you'll pull that switch so it goes past the Acme Factory!"

"Forget it, kid! We ain't doin' that!"

I'd had enough of this, so I ordered, "Oh…Move over!" and, with all my might, pulled the leaver by the tracks that would alter the route of the train from going diagonal, to going straight. It would collide with the Dipmobile- Judge Doom's homemade tank that would spray 5,000 gallons of superheated Dip, enough to erase Toontown in a matter of minutes. It would be destroyed beyond repair after that.

At exactly 12:05 am, Sunday August 17th, 1947, the Dipmobile crashed through the brick wall separating the factory from Toontown, and I watched with a small smile on my face as the speeding Express collided with the Dipmobile, destroying it forever. Toons poured into the factory, all wondering who, or what Doom really was.

Once I heard the announcement that the Acme's will was found (Roger had it all along, but due to the fact that it was written in disappearing ink, he thought it was blank paper, and wrote his wife a love letter on it)

I felt very much relieved and ridiculously happy, and a little bit sad, because I would genuinely miss this place.

When it was all finally over, I put on the spats Uncle George gave me, and picked up my suitcases. I caught Eddie's gaze, and he looked at me for a moment. He mouthed "Thank you" to me.

I walked over to Roger, Jessica, Dolores and Eddie, after Roger waved me over there, and I said, "You know, this isn't goodbye forever, guys. I'll be back again sometime."

Roger started sobbing, hugged me tightly, and through his tears, said, "I'll miss you buddy! Please come back! P-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bleaseeee!"

"You've only known me for about half an hour, Roger!" I said, laughing a bit.

"Yeah," he sniffled, "But I'll miss you! You were a good listener." He blew his nose on Eddie's tie, and Eddie scowled.

Eddie said, gruffly, "It's been nice knowing you … you helped me a little."

"Oh, you old faker!" chided Dolores, elbowing him across the ribs, "Thank the kid properly!"

"Oh, all right…," he said, sighing, "Thank you, kid. For telling me what I really needed to hear. I couldn't have finished this without what you told me. And maybe there _is_ something to laughs being our only weapons in life."

Roger instantly stopped blubbering and said, "Hey wait a minute! That's what I said!"

"Yeah," I said, "Laughter can be a powerful thing. Sometimes in life it's the only weapon anybody has. It's an inspiring quote."

He beamed up at me. "See, Eddie? I inspired someone! I'm not just good for comedy!"

Looking off into the distance, he said, dramatically, "I can see it now: "Roger Rabbit- The Philosopher!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Eddie, smiling and shaking his head. "You may have helped to save Toontown, kid, but don't let your ego get inflated just yet. There's still the book signings and movie deals to look forward to."

This earned a chuckle from everyone.

I could tell he was joking. Besides, I hadn't mentioned a thing to anyone about the movie except for George and Margaret.

"But I will be back. This isn't goodbye forever." I said. "I'll miss you guys. Now, go and enjoy your carrot cake, guys. I have bigger fish to fry."

I watched them wave and call out their goodbyes as I walked back into Toontown. Then, Smartass' pink fedora blew by my feet. It must have blown off before he was kicked into the vat of Dip.

I picked it up, and I thought how if it wasn't for this nasty, vile little weasel throwing away his spats, I never would have discovered all of this. In a way, I owed him something, too. I thought how I may not have done quite what I'd always imagined I'd do if I ever got stuck in this movie/back in time (I'm still not fully sure which one happened), but I felt like things would be all right now. I may have done very little to change things, but the look on Eddie's face told me that my talk with him back in the cemetery helped, just as Dolores said. Or maybe it was just the thought of him becoming a metaphorical pickle if he kept on drinking that did the trick.

I clicked my heels, and closed my eyes, wanting to savor that last memory. I opened them up again, and was back in my room. I was home. And it was about a few minutes after I'd originally left.

That was a few months ago, in mid April. I didn't tell my parents yet, but I did decide to do something to record this extraordinary set of events.

I opened up a word document, and I began to type. Now, I type the final words. I'll be sure to visit them all again, sometime, now that I have both the spats that would get me home and take me there.

You know…I learned a few things from this trip. I learned that you have to stop worrying about the past. It will keep you from thinking about the future. Most important of all, I think is that laughter is the most important thing we have. Those are some of the real messages of "Who Framed Roger Rabbit". So now, I'm going to laugh often, and I'm going to try focus on the future. I've got a whole lot of the past to think about thanks to this trip, and God knows I don't need any more!

That's all, folks!


End file.
